


In All Our Lives

by TheHecateA



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Bakery AU, Detective AU, Firefighter AU, Medieval AU, Rockstar AU, flower shop au, god AU, mermaid au, mythology AU, soul mark au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23799769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHecateA/pseuds/TheHecateA
Summary: A collection of AU oneshots featuring Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Taking suggestions and requests in the reviews. Currently: Mythology, God, Bakery, Mermaid, Flower Shop, Rockstar, Detective, Medieval/Tailor, Soul Mark.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. The Origins of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hey all! Every now and then for a competition, a request, or a prompt list I have to write an AU; so I've decided from this point on that all of my AU fics featuring Remus and Tonks are going to get neatly stashed in this multichapter story. And, why yes, this chapter is here to bookmark/announce this series and also provide my flimsy justification for this agglomeration of AUs. Please accept the ridiculously long quote introducing this story and indulge your local Greek mythology nerd. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition. This particular translation of The Symposium was taken from the MIT's Internet Classics Archives.
> 
> This week's AU: Greek Mythology AU (Set in Modern Era)

# The Origins of Love

> "In the first place, let me treat of the nature of man and what has happened to it . . . the primeval man was round, his back and sides forming a circle; and he had four hands and four feet, one head with two faces, looking opposite ways, set on a round neck and precisely alike; also four ears [ . . .]
> 
> —Plato's The Symposium

Remus cupped her face in his hands and ran his thumbs in small, delicate circles on her cheeks. As far as she was concerned, it was the most reassuring gesture in the world. Still, the blood in her veins felt frozen in place.

"I don't like this," Dora said quietly, meeting his eyes unflinchingly.

"I know," he said quietly. "Neither do I. But if You-Know-You actually shows himself at Hogwarts… we might actually be able to end this tonight. This war might end. Imagine waking up in a world tomorrow where there's no war. Where our biggest problem is just how much lung capacity our son inherited…"

Dora smiled. "That's not the issue. I don't like you going alone…"

"I won't be alone," Remus said. He pressed his forehead against hers. "I won't be alone."

She took a deep breathing, and then another, and another until she could do it without the air coming out shakily. Then she looped her arms around his neck.

"Be smart," Dora said.

"I will be."

"Be careful."

"Yes."

"Be…" Dora sighed and closed her eyes, trying to think of the right word. She settled on being honest instead. "Come back, Remus."

"I would want nothing more and will do absolutely everything to make it back," Remus said. "But if I don't…"

"No," Dora said.

"Listen—"

"You will come back to me," Dora said insistently. "In one way or another. In this life or the next. But really try to make it this one."

Remus laughed and closed the short gap between them to kiss her.

"I'll really try," he promised.

> Terrible was their might and strength, and the thoughts of their hearts were great, and they made an attack upon the gods [ . . .] Doubt reigned in the celestial councils. Should they kill them and annihilate the race with thunderbolts, as they had done the giants, then there would be an end of the sacrifices and worship which men offered to them; but, on the other hand, the gods could not suffer their insolence to be unrestrained.

"Nymphadora…" her mother stuttered.

"Mum, take the baby," Dora said. Her heart was beating fast now—she hadn't been afraid until now, until she'd wrapped herself in her travel cloak and brought the baby to her mother.

"Have you thought this through?" Mum asked.

"My son needs a better world," Dora said. "And for that to happen, they'll need all hands on deck tonight. _We_ need all hands on deck tonight. That's why Remus is there and that's why I have to be there too."

"Dora, don't," Mum said again. "Dora, what if he loses you? What if I lose you?"

"I'll come back, Mum," Dora said again. She kissed her mum's forehead, a quick peck as if she was about to run out the door to go to school or run an errand. Then she kissed Teddy and it was much, much harder to pull back from the smell of baby shampoo and the softness of his turquoise curls. The next few words came by only as a whisper. "One way or another."

> At last, after a good deal of reflection, Zeus discovered a way. He said: "Methinks I have a plan which will humble their pride and improve their manners; men shall continue to exist, but I will cut them in two and then they will be diminished in strength and increased in numbers; this will have the advantage of making them more profitable to us. They shall walk upright on two legs, and if they continue insolent and will not be quiet, I will split them again and they shall hop about on a single leg. [ . . .]

"Mrs. Tonks," Harry said awkwardly, shuffling his way towards Andromeda at the funeral. He had Teddy propped up against his hips. He'd spent more than a few days at her house, taking care of the baby with and for her, but he was still so stiff and awkward and polite around her.

"Hello, dear," she said. She smiled even if it felt like her lips—no, her whole face—were cracking. "What you said about Remus was beautiful."

Harry looked down at his feet but was tugged back to reality by Teddy's cooing. He cleared his throat before speaking to Andromeda next.

"Is, umm… is there anything that you need?" Harry asked.

"Thank you, dear, but I'll be alright," Andromeda said. She reached out her arms and he passed her the baby. She liked the way he fit against her, like a puzzle piece she hadn't expected to have a spot for. She bounced him up and down. "It's just… well, it's difficult to think that they'll be alright, after all this."

"Alright?" Harry asked hesitantly, panic in his eyes as if he was suddenly concerned that she'd forgotten that her daughter and son-in-law were dead. For a second she was afraid he'd take the baby back.

"Alright," Andromeda said. "Somehow..."

> Each of us when separated, having one side only, like a flat fish, is but the indenture of a man, and he is always looking for his other half."
> 
> —Plato


	2. When The Moon Fell In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goddess!AU: Remus has known, since he was a little boy, that there were gods in this world and that there was a curse in his veins. He did not expect that the very goddess who drove his curse would also save his life and colour his nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the myth of Selene and Endymion, the moon goddess and the shepherd, because they always broke my heart. Enjoy!

# When the Moon Fell in Love

Remus ignored the pain in his hips as he lay back down on the thatched roof, closing his eyes and stretching out to expose his neck and arms to the cool night air. This was what he did every night before the full moon, when he was simultaneously too restless to sleep but too exhausted to do anything else—mostly so that he didn't worry the others who were soundly sleeping in the farmhouse. The crispness and coolness of the air around him wouldn't stop the full moon from running its course or his body from breaking and twisting with the change, but for now it felt better and that was really all Remus could ask for at this point.

He heard the sound of footsteps on the roof and when he turned his head aside and opened his eyes, there she was laying at his side. She was laying on her side, leaning against her hand, silvery hair and white skirts spread around her. Her pewter grey eyes were focused on him, though he saw worried creases between them.

"Hey you," he said. "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight."

"Well, I won't be able to see you tomorrow night," the goddess said, smiling sadly. The worry on her face intensified. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Remus promised. "This isn't my first time doing this. You would know better than anyone."

"I do," the goddess said. "Would you like to hear about something I saw from my chariot last night to distract you?"

"Always," Remus smiled. 

The goddess of the moon was already sitting on the rooftop when he climbed the ladder to join her.

"I missed you yesterday," Remus said when he saw her. It was truer than he had expected it to be, when he'd first opened his mouth and she quite possibly saw him blush even if all they had around them was moonlight. Then again, that was probably all the light she, out of all people (well, beings), needed.

The goddess smiled and brought her legs up against her chest, propping her chin on her knee.

"Did you?" she said. "You know, there's going to be a New Moon every month."

"Trust me, I know how the cycle works," Remus said, carefully easing his way towards her to sit at her side. The satchel thrown over his shoulder had bread and cheese and grapes and a book he thought she might like in it. It would be more than enough for a night to go by quickly.

"You don't look well," the goddess said. Her hand surprised him when she touched his forehead, as if checking for a fever. It was a very human gesture and she was warm and soft to the touch too. Again, surprisingly… well, human.

"I'm…" Remus wasn't sure what to say or what to tell her. "I'll be okay. I had a long night yesterday, as I'm sure you know."

The goddess looked away shyly before meeting his eyes again.

"I sometimes wonder how you can bear to spend time with me, given what the moon does to you," she said.

"It's because I know you," Remus said.

"For better or for worse," she said.

"For the better, I'd say," Remus said. "It's not just you, it's me too. It's my bite, my life. It would be worst to live it alone."

The goddess smiled a tiny bit.

"Well, since you're not alone, what can I do to make you feel better?"

"I've told you before," Remus said. "Company is more than enough."

It was getting harder to climb but Remus wouldn't miss it for the world. It was his favourite place to be and the feeling in his stomach that she appeared by his side to join him under the stars was his favourite. He loved opening his eyes, turning his head, and seeing her at his side—her pewter eyes shining and her hair cascading in darker or lighter shades of grey according to where and when in the month they were.

The goddess tilted her head to the side, observing him.

"That's a nasty cut on your face."

"I'm already feeling better with you here."

She smiled.

"So charming, for a mortal," she smiled. It faded quickly. "But are you alright?"

"I am," he promised. He reached out a hand which she took. He wasn't as surprised by her warmth this time, he hadn't been in a very long time, but he was thankful for it. That he always was.

"I just need your help thinking of a much more interesting story to explain the scar it will leave than 'lycanthropy,'" he said. "The others were useless—Peter kept trying to make up stories about the chickens attacking me…"

She laughed and ran her thumb in circles around his palm.

It was raining.

To be clear, it wasn't the first time since Remus had met the goddess that it rained. But it was the first time that he saw her even when the sky was covered up, even when they weren't in their usual meeting place.

He had gone into the barn overnight to check on the mare and her new foal, to make sure that they had what they needed and perhaps an extra stable blanket for the night. He spotted the family of barn cats that Sirius had all but declared war against, but never in a thousand years would Remus take a side and eject from the barn—especially not on a stormy night like this one. Peter had put the sheep away and the lot of them were sleeping through the thunder and rain quite nicely, which must be a fantastic talent that Remus wished he had. The cows seemed annoyed. Chickens that must have escaped the coop were clucking away, but Remus wouldn't worry about them just then.

When he turned to the barn doors to leave, he saw her standing in the doorframe, dusty grey hair piled on top of her head and out of the way. She was wearing shorter robes than usual, almost as if she'd known that she'd come and didn't want them to drag on the barn floor.

"You're here!" Remus said, moving to join her. The closer to her he got, the louder the sound of the rain and its consistent pitter patter got in his ears.

"I am," she said.

"Why?" Remus asked.

"I wanted to see you," the goddess said as if that was self-explanatory.

Before Remus could ask 'why' again, she kissed him.

"If I could see you during the day," the goddess said as they sat on the roof and she carved designs into his new shepherd's crook, "I would."

"I'm not very interesting during the day," Remus scoffed. "Really, I'm just doing farmwork with the other three. The highlight of our week is going to the market to sell eggs and cheese and bread and whatever else we manage to make."

"You're quite inventive, the four of you," the goddess said. She dug the point of her knife into the wood and seemed quite pleased with herself when a chip of wood came flying out. "But even if it was boring, I would want to be a part of it. I could pretend to be mortal, to fit in. I'd force my hair to take on a normal colour—maybe a mousy brown that could fit in with the crowd—and I'd take a mortal name so that I wouldn't be recognized. Something like… something like Dora."

"Dora," Remus smiled. "Well, you know, I can call you that without you having to come be boring with us. Dora."

She smiled and handed the crook back to him. He ran his fingers along the engravings in the wood, which showed the phases of the moon and the outline of constellations.

She had made the moonlight especially bright for him to read by what felt like seconds ago, but already he was shutting the book he'd been reading and turned to face her to see what she thought about the ending.

She was laying on her stomach, arms pillowed under her head and a lazy smile on her lips.

"Start the story over," Dora mused. "It was a good one, and good stories should go on."

He couldn't argue with that logic.

He kept reading and got a few chapters in before taking a break to rest his voice. The goddess simply watched him.

"I didn't mean to fall in love with you," she said plainly.

Remus felt himself blush.

"I promise," the goddess said, sitting up and taking the book from him, opening it and flipping the pages to where he had let off. "But I did, and good stories should go on, yes?"

"Yes," Remus agreed.

"Chapter 3?"

"Chapter 3," he agreed.

He was sitting on the grass, leaning against the ladder and trying to steady his breathing as his joints moaned in protest and pain.

"Remus," she said.

When he opened his eyes it seemed like the world was swimming, but he knew his head was just dizzy with pain.

"Remus," she said, kneeling before him. He felt her hands on his shoulders through the nauseating amount of other sensations he was reckoning with.

"Remus, what's wrong?" the goddess asked again. They were getting closer to the full moon and so her silver hair was darkening. It was bound backwards in a romantically loose braid.

"Nothing, Dora," he said. "Just… just a rough transformation yesterday."

"Are you hurt?" she asked pressingly.

"Of course," Remus said. "But I'll be fine… I…"

He lost his breath when he tried to push himself up but Dora caught him, holding him against her milky white form.

"It's gotten worse," Dora whispered.

"Of course it has," Remus said, slumping so that his forehead rested on his shoulder. "I'm getting older."

"What?" Dora asked. "I mean, of course, that's what mortals do, but…"

"We've known each other a long time," he said. "Years, now. Did you know that we first met twenty years ago?"

"Twenty?" the goddess repeated as if the idea that she should count had never crossed her mind which, quite frankly, it possibly hadn't.

"And I didn't feel like a young man then, either," Remus said. "Sometimes I think the changes age me twice as fast."

"Well what can I do?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing," Remus said. "Please, I… I think I need to sleep tonight."

Another farmer, the one she assumed must be Sirius based on the stories she'd heard from Remus, was sitting on the rooftop when the goddess came.

"Huh," Sirius said, looking at the goddess. "Not what I expected Remus' type to be, but here we are, I supposed."

"Where is he?" she asked, paying no attention to what she assumed was teasing. That was, after all, what Remus' stories always suggested one should do before the handsome, sharp-tongued Sirius.

"Sleeping," Sirius said. He didn't say more than that which gave her some time to look him over. The subject of age had loomed large in her mind since Remus had brought it forth, and she tried to assess the toll that time had took on Sirius. He did not look as tired, worn, grey, and weary as Remus did, though she knew they were the same age.

"I'm Dora," she said finally.

"You're not, you're a goddess," Sirius said. "I mean, I'll call you Dora if you want, but you need to understand that Remus is mortal."

"Mortal and dying," Dora said.

"Yes," Sirius said. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and scratched the back of his head. "James and I, we were hoping we'd find a potion that would help his body weather the transformations, make them more gentle… but he was bitten so young. He's been through this so many times."

"I know," the goddess said.

"I think you do but I also think you don't," Sirius said. "Just… have you ever lost somebody, goddess? Because we're not ready for what's coming but at least we understand the permanence of it."

"I understand," Dora said.

What she meant to say, though she did not feel the need to explain herself to a mortal, was that she understood that she could not let it happen.

When she finished riding the moon through the sky, when she went back to the place where only the gods could go (even in stories and to the eyes of readers), she made for the throne room with a question in her throat and the weight of a life on her heart.

When Remus woke up he took a deep breath and paused to assess where it hurt. To his incredible surprise, nothing did.

Perhaps even more surprising was that Dora sat on the simple wooden chair next to his bed, the one where he'd gotten used to seeing James, Peter, or Sirius standing vigil even if he promised them he would be fine. When she saw him awaken her lips parted slightly, letting out a sigh. Her hair tumbled loosely down her back, jet black which made her eyes shine even more.

"Dora," he said. When he reached out to her he realized that the scars that had pockmarked and criss-crossed his arms for so many years after so many painful transformations weren't there. He was just sunburned and tanned and rough-handed, like any other farmer in the valley.

She took his hand immediately in both of hers and squeezed it, bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles. Behind her he saw the other boys, by the door and bottlenecking the hall.

"What happened?" Remus asked.

"I did what I could," Dora whispered. "It… it won't fix everything and it won't stop nature from running its course, she can't be stopped. But I could have them make you young again, whenever you slept."

Remus carefully pushed himself back up, but as it turned out he hadn't had to be careful. He got up easily and smoothly, as if he was in another body, and looked around.

"You…" he turned from his friends to Dora and threw his arms around her neck. He felt her melt against him, and ran a hand through her hair to cup her head.

"You asked me years ago how I could love the moon," Remus whispered in her ear. "This is why."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Bakery!AU


	3. The Sweetest Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Remus takes it onto himself to figure out how to quell a pregnant friend's cravings, he can't resist all the extra chocolate that's involved.

# The Sweetest Tooth

She was leaning against the counter by the cash register, pretending to review some bills to take a break from cleaning up the kitchen, when the bell on the front door jingled. In came a man bundled up in handmade sweaters and ill-fitting jeans. He was looking around at the abundance of bread loaves stacked on the shelves, the baskets of bagels, and the neat lines of pastries in the glass case with the kind of curiosity and wonder that Tonks loved. It marked him quite transparently as a first-time customer.  
“Wotcher,” she called. “Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”  
“Actually, yes,” the man said, approaching the cash. He looked at a loss for a second before shaking his head to refocus. “Sorry, it just smells great in here…”  
“We try,” Tonks said. The smells of fresh bread, challah peppered with sesame seeds, freshly baked cake, honey, sweet icing, cinnamon, chocolate, coconut, caramel, nutmeg, cloves, almond extract, baked apples, poppy seeds, and whatever else she was using on any given day could definitely be dreamy and distracting. A fresh batch of sufganiyot had come out of the oven, and the rugelach she’d made this morning had made their odorous mark on the bakery hours ago, in the form of apricot jam, cherries, and hazelnut.  
“Right,” the man said shyly. “Umm, listen, this is a weird question, but does an incredibly pregnant red-haired woman with big, emerald green eyes ever come in here? Or alternatively a bespectacled man who looks like he’s unfamiliar with the function of a hairbrush?”  
She couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the vivid, and frankly accurate, descriptions.  
“Yes, I’ve seen them,” she said. “Usually together.”  
“Okay, good, I’m at the right place,” the man said, nodding along as if encouraging himself. “Right, so, we’ve all been friends since school, and now James was called away for work because he’s in law enforcement. And while he’s gone, a few of us are staying with Lily because she’s never been more pregnant, but we have no idea what we’re doing.”  
“Right,” Tonks nodded along.  
“Anyways, she’s been craving sweets for her whole pregnancy and I know this bakery’s along her usual walk and I’m wondering what…”  
“What her usual order is?” Tonks finished, smiling at the sweetness of it all.  
“Yes,” the man sighed, as if relieved that he’d managed to get his whole story out.  
“Chocolate croissant,” Tonks said, reaching for the pair of tongs she used to package orders. “Her husband, James you called him, sometimes got an almond croissant—want me to throw one in in case she’s used to sneaking bites from him?”  
“That would be incredible,” he nodded.  
“Right,” Tonks said, slipping the pastries in question into a paper box stamped with her bakery’s logo. She added a few pieces of chocolate babka since it was nice and fresh, and some neatly folded hamantaschen since she vaguely remembered the couple giggling at how much they looked like little hats during one of their past visits—which, to be fair, they were supposed to.  
She turned back to her customer.  
“And what would you like?”  
“Me?” the man asked shyly. His cheeks flushed a nice blush pink she quite liked.  
“Yes, you,” she said. “I know a sweet tooth when I see one—industry skill, you might call it.”  
“What gave me away?” he said with a grin.  
“Your face when you walked in, the way your eyes were going over the display case while we were talking, and a certain _je ne sais quoi,_ ” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.  
He blushed even more and looked away, biting back a smile.  
He turned to look at the display case again, letting himself be tempted by the mixture of French, Jewish, and British desserts.  
“It’ll be on the house,” Tonks said. “On account of how sweet you’re being to your friends.”  
“Are you allowed to do that?” he inquired.  
“It’s my shop,” she shrugged.  
“Oh,” he said. “Oh, well… thank you… what do you like the most, out of the things you make?”  
“That’s a trick question,” Tonks said. The man smiled back but held her gaze, and something about his shy little smile and his warm eyes broke her resolution. “I like the éclairs—I spend the whole day hoping they don’t sell out so I can sneak one home. They’ve got a chocolate ganache on top with a dash of espresso in it, so really deepen that chocolate flavour, and on good days I toss chocolate chips into the pastry cream.”  
“Is today a good day?” the man inquired.  
She nodded.  
“That sounds incredible,” he said. “I’d love to try one.”  
Tonks packed one up in a little white cardboard box so that it would stay pristine on his walk home. She hesitated for a moment but eventually decided to scribble her phone number on the box’s inside in black Sharpie, adding a note specifying: (mine, not the bakery’s).  
She turned back to him and handed him his purchases in a little paper bag.  
“You should come by again tomorrow,” Tonks said. “Tuesday is Macaron Day. Your friend really likes lemony things, and I make a wicked lemon macaron”  
It wasn’t, but she could make it Macaron Day.  
“Right,” he said. “Well, I better go feed her now but I’ll see you again tomorrow, then.”  
“See you tomorrow,” she said.  
As she watched him leave the shop, she made a mental note for herself to make an extra batch of those chocolate raspberry macarons. Something told her she’d be giving out a lot of free baked goods from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next AU: Firefighter


	4. Happy Accidents (Or: Sirius Started The Fire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not that Sirius is the worst roommate ever. It's just that he keeps summoning the fire department which, come to think of it, Remus might be okay with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

# Happy Accidents Alternative Title: Sirius Started the Fire

“‘Live with Sirius,’ they said” Remus muttered under his breath. “‘It’ll be fun,’ they said. ‘You get along so well,’ they all said… absolute rubbish. I’m going to strangle James next time I see him.”   
“Oye,” Sirius said. “I said I was sorry.”   
“For setting the flat on fire, yes,” Remus said. He shuffled closer to Sirius nevertheless, since they had rushed out of the flat in the middle of the coldest night of the year. Remus had only had time to grab a blanket from the living room and stuff his bare feet in a pair of sneakers, and he was shivering greatly for it. His flannel pajama pants didn’t feel nearly as warm as they did when he was tucked into bed—which was where he would love to be at this time.   
“If the building was _actually_ on a fire we’d be nice and toasty right now,” Sirius said. “It’d kind of be preferable, actually.”   
“Don’t try to be funny,” Remus shivered. “I.. can’t… feel… my… face…”   
Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus to share his heat, and even if Remus wanted to murder him he didn’t because a dead body wouldn’t be as warm.  
“At least this is cozy,” Sirius said. “We can just get comfortable, you know?”   
“Frostbite is not comfortable, damnit!” Remus said. “Sirius, this is the third time this month you’ve set off the fire alarm.”  
He’d say more things to the most useless flatmate in the world but his teeth were chattering.   
“Yes, so you’d think everyone would stop panicking,” Sirius said nonchalantly.  
Just like that, it started to snow.   
Remus sighed.   
“What did you even do this time?” he asked Sirius. “I saw the final product, but what did you do to that poor toaster?   
“I just wanted toast.”   
“At 3:26 a.m.?”   
“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Sirius shrugged.  
“I’d ask you to tell your heart to want things that can’t start small fires, but I don’t even know how you managed to mess up toast that badly,” Remus sighed. He shivered, which was when he saw the firefighters emerge from the building. “Oh, thank God…”  
They reconvened by their bright red truck and quickly chatted with the building manager. A Black firefighter spoke into a megaphone, announcing to everyone that it was safe to go back inside.  
“...Except for the tenants in Flat 24,” he said.  
Remus could have pushed Sirius into the snowbank—especially when he saw their landlady, a Scottish woman with grey hair and rectangular glasses who had no time for nonsense (which was essentially all they were able to deliver). She pointed them out to the firefighters.   
Another firefighter came to see them. As she walked towards them, she took off her helmet and revealed crimson red hair, pulled back in a high bun. He was surprised by how slight she was in all that bulky gear. The moonlight, streetlights, and the light off the fire engine bounced off the reflective strips on her jacket and pants.   
“Hullo,” she said. “You’re from Flat 24, yeah?”   
“Yes, that’s us,” Remus said, trying not to sound resentful even if he wanted to melt into a puddle. Maybe he’d actually freeze over if that happened.  
“Lovely,” she said. She gave them a look-over. “Nice pajamas.”   
Remus gave Sirius a look but when he turned back to the firefighter she was smiling kindly, as if she meant it.   
“Cold?” she asked.   
“Yes,” Remus said.   
“I’d love to warm you up but I’m afraid that’s unprofessional, so I’ll make this quick. Anyways, you two are lucky—the toaster’s done for, but you really minimized damage to the flat. Good move from whoever dumped it in the sink and turned the water on.”  
Sirius looked at Remus and mouthed ‘thank you.’   
“Smoke damage in the flat’s not what it could have been either,” she said. “Again, you were lucky. Be more careful, you might not be next time.”   
“I’ll try,” Sirius said.  
Remus sighed.  
The firefighter looked from Sirius to Remus. She cracked a grin.   
“Well, good luck with him,” she told Remus. “Now go back inside before you freeze, yeah?”   
“Right, thank you,” he said.   
She gave him a wink before going back to join the rest of the firefighters.   
“Bit on-the-nose for a firefighter to have crimson hair, I’d say,” Sirius said as they hobbled back inside.   
“I liked her,” Remus said defensively.  
“Huh,” Sirius said. “Want me to start another fire to get her back here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next AU: Mermaid!


	5. The Lady In and Of the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus is nothing but stress as the due date for this thesis on Grindylows approaches. Thankfully, he has help from the inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

The splash of water at Remus’ side told him that he was no longer alone, and sure enough when he looked up he saw that someone had hauled themselves up to the edge of the dock before leaning forwards, propping herself up on her elbows. The mermaid tilted her head to the left, sending her soaked, greyish blue hair tumbling down over one of her shoulders. Between their colour, perfectly adapted to camouflage in a lake, and the ways that the braiding style twisted, it very much looked like a cascade. She blinked her big amber eyes towards him. It always took him a second to get used to their unnatural glow, as her pupils and irises adjusted to their surface state. He suspected it had something to do with the amount of light she saw underwater as opposed to above water.  
“Hello again,” Remus said.  
“Hello,” she said. “Are you working on your thesis work again today?”   
“I am,” Remus said. “So I’m afraid I won’t be much fun. Do you promise not to splash if I come show you?”   
The mermaid seemed to ponder this for a second and eventually decided she was in a benevolent mood. She nodded and so Remus kicked off his shoes and walked down the wooden dock to go sit at the edge of the water. He dipped his feet down into the freshwater she’d emerged from, circling them in a motion that imitated the way she moved her slate grey tail to stay in place.   
“I was hoping to ask for your help, actually,” Remus said. He repositioned the order in which his sketchbook, textbook, notebook, and scraps of parchment were piled to show her a sketch he’d recently done in charcoal.   
“You drew this,” she said.   
“How did you know?”   
"I recognize that sloppy penmanship anywhere,” she said, reaching out a finger to point to the annotations on the page. They had known each other long enough for her to be aware of how disastrous water on paper, parchment, ink or charcoal could be.   
“It’s not sloppy, the letters are just tiny,” Remus said. Lily and the others in his graduating classes called it chicken scrawl.   
“Give me a break, you only taught me how to read months ago,” the mermaid said. She tilted her head again and the cascade shifted.   
“Of course, sorry” Remus said. “Your English is better than my Mermish will ever be, anyways.”   
“You speak it better than any human I've ever met, though you do sound funny when you use place names… and you put the words in the wrong order all the time so it’s like you’re a little one... Anyways, why are you showing me this?”   
“My vision’s not as good underwater, naturally, so I was wondering how close I’d gotten this last portrait,” he said.   
She studied the picture of the striped Grindylow he’d drawn, her eyes scanning over every detail. This was the sixth distinct species of Grindylow he’d isolated and identified as part of his thesis work in Defense Against the Dark Arts (which had a particular focus on magical creatures). He had seen the signs that this particular lake was full of magical life, which was why he’d chosen it for his fieldwork, but he had never expected it to be this alive. If he hadn’t struck up this friendship with the mermaid, he’d still be stumped as to how all the creatures of the lake had gotten there (secret passages under the earth connected after years of cooperative tunneling and labour—that was how… He still had so much to learn about underwater worlds.)   
“Well, it looks ugly,” she said.   
“Dora!” he laughed.   
“Not because of you, because they are ugly!” she scoffed. “If anything, it’s a compliment!”   
“Alright, alright,” Remus laughed. “I’m sorry, my nerves are all skewed. At this point, I feel like I’m little more than a heap of anxiety. My due date is approaching.”   
“I know,” Dora said. “I’ll miss you when you’ll have finished your work and gone.”   
“I won’t go forever, I’ll come back,” he promised.  
“You better, because I’m a tad limited,” she said, splashing one of her hands in the water. He thought that there was something vaguely resentful in the way that she looked at her tail and its perfectly geometrical scales or the delicacy of the fins in which it ended.   
“I will,” he promised. “Is there anything else about this I could improve?”   
“You always add shading to your life drawings as if they’re being lit like surface light,” Dora said. “Although I like that quite a lot, about your art—or science or Magizoology or whatever you call it… The horns could be a little lower on the head though, for the deepwater ones like this. It makes them easier to hunt, actually.”   
“Really?” Remus asked.  
“Mm-hmm,” the mermaid mused. “They have to get closer to do as much damage—though those damn things are so much sharper. They really hurt if you’re not paying attention, or if you’re a klutz like me.”   
“Noted,” Remus said, rubbing at the parchment with his thumb. He stopped before he smudged the image too much. He knew how deep his perfectionist streak ran; he’d be restarting this sketch in only hours to take her advice.   
“Will you read me your thesis when it’s done and published, so that I see everything you’ve learned?” Dora asked.  
“You can read it yourself,” Remus asked. “I’ll bring you a copy, cast a water repellent charm on it. You’re much better at reading than you think you are, you know.”   
“I know,” she said nonchalantly. “I just like hearing you read.”   
Remus smiled. That was, after all, why she had first approached him when he had started his research over a year ago. He’d been trying to puzzle through a difficult treaty on kelpies by reading out loud and she’d overheard just enough English over the years, from fishermen and hikers and the like, to be intrigued. At first he was sure she would drown him, but as it turned out she was just as curious as he was.   
“I can do that now,” he said. “I have a chapter I just finished editing, I can reread it to check for any spelling mistakes.”   
“Please,” the mermaid said before she slid off the dock she had pulled herself onto. He heard her splash back down onto the water and reemerge seconds later, floating at the surface, eyes closed.   
“What are you waiting for?” she asked.  
He didn’t know, so he smiled, looked down at his page, and started reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next AU: Flower Shop AU


	6. Because of the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus is scrambling to fix his best friends' wedding when the weather ruins their best laid plans, and Tonks may even get free cake out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

# Because of the Rain

Secretly, she was a little bit relieved that it was raining. Business was always slow when it was raining—nobody liked to wander the farmer’s market in awful weather, after all.  
Except for soaking men in suits running into the shop, apparently.  
He closed his umbrella behind him, trying to shake off the surplus droplets of rain before turning back to look inside the shop. She saw his warm brown eyes take apart and evaluate its various components; the hanging plants whose long leaves and vines dangled down, the shelves of potted plants and tiny succulents, the bouquets of flowers lining the walls, the door leading to a the cold room where she kept some of the more fragile blooms nice and fresh…  
“Wotcher,” she called from the desk where she’d been arranging a bouquet of roses in shades of orange and pink, for one of her regular customers. Some bloke named Vernon who seemed to constantly upset his wife for whatever reason—not her favourite, but he did sometimes make or break Tonks’s rent on the little flower shop, so that was useful of him.  
“Hi,” he said. He looked at her, probably fixated on her hair which got folks excited all the time, and then at the bouquet before her.  
“Umm, do you have any flowers that aren’t orange?” he blurted.  
She paused to process this for a moment, wondering if this was some kind of a slang term she hadn’t heard by virtue of owning a small business and living under a rock.  
“Yes, quite a few,” Tonks said. “This… is a flower shop.”  
“Right,” he said. He ran a hand through his damp hair. Ever since he’d opened the door, the air all felt damp. “Right, it’s—it’s really nice here. I should, umm, I should explain...”  
“That would be nice,” Tonks smiled. She snipped the end of some stems off with her scissors. “It’s not often that men show up to my shop so well-dressed.”  
“Well,” Remus said. “I’m dressed like this for a wedding, actually.”  
“Congratulations,” Tonks said.  
“No, no,” he said quickly, eyes popping. “No, it’s not mine! I’m a groomsman, it’s my best friends, they’re the ones getting married—we hope. It’s raining pretty hard out there, as you can tell… I’m sorry for making a mess of your floor.”  
“Don’t worry about it,” Tonks said.  
“See, they’re excellent people and they’re good for each other and they deserve this happiness, but the church they were meant to be married in flooded in last night’s storm,” Remus said. “And all these relatives can’t get into town because it’s kept raining and the roads are awful. Really, it’s been one big comedy of errors and everything’s gone wrong. So we’ve moved the whole thing to our favourite pub, and they’re still quite excited about it and they’re rolling with the punches on this one... but I’m scrambling to try and salvage the pieces of their dream wedding and I think flowers would really mean a lot to them. You know, they’re only going to get married once—hopefully.”  
“So you’re looking for flowers,” Tonks summarized.  
“Yes,” the man nodded. “Because of the rain.”  
“Not orange, though,” she said. She meant it teasingly, and he blushed.  
“I hear you have options,” he countered once he composed himself.  
“That I do,” Tonks smiled. “We got nicknamed ‘the most colourful flower shop in the county’ just last month, you know.”  
That had been Tonks’ goal, when she’d opened the shop. Really, she’d just wanted a spot of colour in the village and so she made one—arranging her shop in rainbow gradients of petals and blossoms, painting vases and terracotta pots by hand, putting together corsages and bouquets for a thousand special occasions…  
“Incredible,” the man said.  
“Your friends, do they have any favourite colours?” Tonks asked, going around the counter and picking up the basket she left there to bring it with her. She grabbed the stunned and very drippy customer by the hand and dragged him into the refrigerated room.  
“Umm, well, umm, James’ favourite team plays in bright green and that’s Lily’s eye colour—she likes yellow a lot, and looks good in blue, and their house colours were red… umm…”  
“Alright, so any colour will do,” Tonks concluded as she surveyed their options. She started plucking flowers into her basket. White crocuses and primroses, pale blue chionodoxa, baby’s breath, slightly golden tulips…  
“How many bridesmaids?”  
“Umm—it’s Marlene, Alice, and Mary, so three,” he said. “And there’s three groomsmen, but I don’t think we were meant to get boutonnieres or anything, and then the bride and groom, of course.”  
“Right,” Tonks said. “Right, that’s doable.”  
She filled up her basket and circled back to the front counter where she started assembling the bouquets—three small ones, a bigger one for the bride, and she decided to make a small boutonniere for the groom anyways.  
"Those are beautiful… this isn’t even a bad plan B, your work is gorgeous. You're a lifesaver,” he said.  
"Don't thank me yet. I haven't given you the fee."  
“It doesn’t matter, it’ll all be worthwhile,” he said after a moment of hesitation.  
“I’m kidding,” Tonks said. “I’m feeling generous and really I’m a romantic at heart. I know, don’t look like it, but I love a good story.”  
“I can definitely promise you that,” he nodded. “Also, I don’t technically have a plus one, so if you want some free food and a probably unspeakable quantity of beer…”  
Tonks laughed.  
And then wondered how bad it would look if she said yes.  
“If I’m going to offer you that, I should probably tell you that my name is Remus,” he said.  
“Remus,” she repeated. “Well, I’m Tonks. Maybe I’ll tell you my full name after we crash this wedding.”  
“There will be cake,” Remus promised. “I already got that all sorted out.”  
“Cake,” Tonks nodded satisfyingly. “Well, if the icing’s good I’ll definitely tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next AU: Rockstar


	7. All The Right Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus stayed behind after the show to catch a break from his other bandmates, but he doesn't mind being disturbed by their body guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

# All The Right Notes

They stumbled into their dressing room breathless and guidy, breathless from the encore and sweaty from the bright stage lights.  
"Good one, boys," James called. He'd handed off his guitar to a stagehand when the show'd finished but he'd held onto his guitar pick, as per usual. He was fiddling with it still.   
"I love Glasgow," Sirius said. He grabbed the water bottle someone had left on his dressing table and chugged half the bottle. The rest he dumped over his face.  
"Merlin, that's good," he said. "Three encores really takes it out of you, huh?"  
Just as he said, Peter face-planted on the cheap leather couch in the room. His drumsticks were still safely tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.  
James patted his back.  
"Your chips and burger are waiting in the hotel room," he said. "After that you get to sleep."  
Peter muttered something Remus didn't quite understand into the sofa.  
Remus sat at his own dressing table and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his flannel shirt.   
"I'd also ask that you shower Peter, on account of our room-sharing situation."  
Peter raised his head just long enough to ask: "Won't you want to shower first?"  
"I can shower here, it's fine," Remus said, leaning back into his chair. He liked some peace and quiet after their shows; as much as he loved playing onstage and taking pictures with fans after the show and occasionally catching especially enthusiastic fans at the doors… well, it was very overstimulating. He liked to take a moment of peace after. The other Marauders knew this.   
"Alright," James said, nodding along. "You'll join the three of us later?"  
"Yes," Remus promised.  
"Alright. Eat something and drink lots," James ordered. "Also, knock on our door before going to bed when you get in."  
"Or else James won't sleep," Sirius said.  
"Exactly," James agreed.   
They pulled Peter off the couch and with that they parted. Remus closed his eyes and gathered himself for a moment—but really, he’d had more than one reason for staying in. Notably; the venue they’d performed at that night had small, tiny really, wings. The theatre’s piano had been pushed into the dressing room, up against the wall. It reminded Remus of the piano his high school had had, a small contraption on wheels with a wooden back and chipped keys. He pushed it away from the wall and ran his fingers against the first few keys. It sounded just fine to Remus—again, in a piano-abandoned-in-a-high-school way. He moved it towards where James had been sitting and co opted his chair. He repositioned himself, back straight, basically hearing his mother’s chiding voice in his mind telling him to mind his posture.   
He squared his shoulders and let his fingers hover over the piano keys for a moment before beginning to play. He was watching his own hands play more than he would have if he was playing regularly, but it wasn’t bad. The song was still airy, melodic and soft…  
“That was nice,” he heard someone say.  
Remus nearly fell out of his chair as he looked up. There, leaning in the door in her usual all-black uniform, was the fuschia-haired security guard. She told everyone to call her Tonks, but Peter was on a mission to find out what her real name was. Her sunglasses were clicked onto her t-shirt collar.  
“Oh,” Remus said. “What are you… what are you doing here?”   
“Security detail accompanied the other band members to the hotel, but I was asked to stay behind with you,” she said. “You know, on account of what happened with the stalking and the crazed fan last time we were in Glasgow.”   
“That’s not necessary,” Remus said.   
“You can bring it up with Alastor,” she said. “Or James. James also thought you’d take more kindly if I was here instead of one of the other bodyguards.”   
“Right,” Remus said. "There's no getting rid of you, is there?"  
“Nope,” she said, popping her ‘p.’ She peeled herself off the wall and stepped into the room, looking lanky and effortless and supple even if Remus had already seen her throw people three times her size across rooms or tame massive crowds that beat and throbbed like pulses.   
“Especially because I did my piano conservatories,” she said.   
“You did?”   
“I did,” she said.  
“Me too,” Remus said. “I was the only one of us who played an instrument in high school.”   
“You did?” Tonks said. “But what about James and Sirius… and Peter is such a pioneer…”   
“I was lonely and they wanted me not to be lonely,” Remus said. “So they made music with me and, as it turns out, they were good at it.”   
“I think you’re quite good too,” Tonks said. “The bass supports the entire melody or song. Your piano form seems a lot more practical than technical, though.”   
“I know,” Remus said. “My mother would hate it.”   
“You just need practise,” Tonks said. “We’ve been on tour so long…”   
“So long,” Remus agreed. “I guess we should start hunting down pianos while we’re on tour, then. To stay sharp.”  
“Pfff,” she scoffed. “ _I’m_ still sharp.”  
Remus laughed, incredulous.  
“Really?” he said.  
“Try me,” she said. She crossed the room to come towards him and bumped her hip against Remus until he made room for her on the chair. Her fingers settled on the ivory and black keys with ease and she started playing.   
And that was when Remus fell in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next AU: Detective


	8. Sharing the Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonks is bending over backwards to try to close this case before the man who attacked her partner strikes again. Meanwhile, Remus is dealing with a different set of repercussions and desperately trying to keep his partner out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

# Sharing the Madness 

When she didn’t respond to the cup being put down on her desk, he gently inched it closer to her until it had made its way on the case files she was reviewing.  
She looked up, about to say something nasty, but he was looking at her with that strict look of his that always made her want to tell Remus that he should have been a teacher—though it did make him quite efficient in the interrogation room.  
He reached into his pocket and retrieved a white paper bag, which he also deposited on her paperwork.  
“Eat, you’ll feel better,” he said.  
“I’ll feel better when we solve this,” Tonks said. Still, he wasn’t wrong. It was nearing twilight and she was hungry, after a night of... well, calling it “work” didn’t feel right since she hadn’t gotten a whole lot done, other than crossing off dead ends.  
She grabbed the paper bag and reached in to find the double-baked croissant he’d picked up for her.  
“You know how much time closing a case can take,” Remus said, sitting back down at his own desk across from hers. He popped off the lid of his cup to cool down the Earl Grey tea—it was the only thing he drank, no matter the hour or how long their shifts were or how long they’d been beating themselves over the heads at the station. Out of all the things that made her partner an 87 year old man at heart, this was definitely the most flagrant.  
At least he fed her caffeine addiction consistently, quietly, and without judgement. Also, he accepted how messy their patrol car always ended up being. He didn’t question her colour-coding system for casework either. And he could read her awful penmanship. Plus whenever she’d re-dye her hair a new and outrageous colour, he’d colour-coordinate his shirt the next day so they would both be outlandishly fuschia or whatnot. Alright, Remus was overall about as perfect of a partner as she could have been paired up with, even in moments when she didn’t understand him—like now.  
“I’m surprised you aren’t going mad about this,” Tonks said.  
“You’ve got enough madness for the both of us, I think,” Remus said. He jiggled the mouse of his ancient computer to bring his dinosaur back to life. The monitor began shining dimly against his face.  
“Because we had him and he just slipped through our fingers,” she huffed. “I’d be bothered enough by any suspect getting away, let alone one that attacked you!”  
“I am _fine,_ ” Remus repeated. “I was cleared by medical right away, as you might recall.”  
“You keep saying that, but I keep not believing you,” she said. She took a bite of her pastry. “Even aside from you, the man’s a menace. We need to find him again.”  
“We’ve been removed from the case, Dora,” he reminded her. He was the only one in the force who could get away with calling her that.  
“You don’t have to be here, then,” she reminded him. She looked at her watch briefly and sighed. “Technically, our shift only starts at 7:00. You could go home and grab another hour, at least—or crash in the on-call room....”  
He ignored her.  
“Unless you’re still not sleeping properly,” she pointed out.  
“If you’re going to be working, I want to be around to stop you from doing anything too crazy,” Remus said. “That’s all.”  
“Liar,” she said. There was worry etched in his face and weariness in his eyes and tension in his shoulders that she’d known him long enough to spot. She didn’t care if he’d been jumped by the perp they’d been pursuing nearly a month ago; she also didn’t care that he’d been cleared to return to work since. She could tell something was wrong.  
“As you wish,” Remus said, directing his attention back again to his computer screen. Dora sighed and refocused on the old case files she was reviewing again, looking for hints of their suspect in past cases that had never been closed. She brought her coffee to her lips and took a sip—if her idiot was going to be an idiot, then at least he was an idiot who knew where all the best shops were.  
Remus was uncharastically restless at his desk. She was always tapping her feet and fidgeting with pens or reading under her breath, but Remus seemed to struggle to find a comfortable way to sit. He hadn’t touched his tea.  
“You alright?” Tonks asked.  
“I am,” he said. She wasn’t convinced—actually, looking at him worried her more, if anything. He was breathing through his mouth, as if they’d just gone on one of their runs, and she saw sweat beading on his forehead. He’d rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, as if he was overheating.  
“Remus?”  
“I’m fine,” he cut. She arched an eyebrow. “Sorry. I… I’m just trying to read through this.”  
Tonks turned back to her work but within five minutes, Remus pushed back from his desk. She saw him pause for a moment before getting up and walking away.  
“Remus?”  
“I’m fine,” he said. She watched him leave the room and turn right as if going for the bathrooms. She hesitated a moment before getting up and following him.  
She pushed the door to the men’s restroom. Predictably, it was empty. One of the faucets was running. Only one stall was closed. When she stepped inside, the toe of her shoe lined up neatly with a button that had fallen to the ground.  
She knelt down to pick it up.  
“Remus?” she asked.  
She just heard panting and laboured breathing.  
“Remus, I don’t care what you’re saying anymore, I’m coming in,” Tonks said. She heard him say her name faintly but she ignored it.  
“I’m pushing through the door, so duck down,” she said, even if she saw by peering under the stall door that he was sitting on the ground.  
She pushed her shoulder into the door with a running start once, twice, and thrice until the cheap lock busted. The door swung open and she saw Remus sitting on the floor, his head leaning against the porcelain toilet seat. He’d just thrown up and he looked dizzy, sweaty, drained. He’d unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged off one of the sleeves as if he’d been overheating—and his arm…  
“Remus,” she exhaled. “Oh, Remus, what the fuck…”  
“I…” he couldn’t even answer the question. His eyes fluttered closed.  
“Hey,” she said, kneeling down in front of him. She ran to the sink to run her hands under the cool water and dampen a paper towel. She came back and pressed it to his forehead.  
“Do you want food? Water?”  
“No,” he said. “I’ve been… getting sicker and sicker whenever I try to eat…”  
“Okay,” she said. She flushed the toilet and brought a new paper towel to run across his face. The arm, though… the arm she didn’t know what to do with, she didn’t know if she should touch it. The red marks were unevenly deep, an ugly red colour, some of them blackening and oozing…  
“I thought you’d been cleared to come back to work,” she said. “I thought… I thought they’d said you’d be fine.”  
“It didn’t look like this at first,” Remus said. “It got… it got worse.”  
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Tonks asked. She didn’t wait for an answer; she got up and came back with a new paper towel that she gently pressed against the wound. Remus hissed and clenched his teeth.  
“It sounds crazy,” Remus said. “It… it has to be crazy, it can’t be true.”  
“That an untreated wound got worse?” she asked. She pulled the wet paper towel again and exhaled.  
“It… it looks like a bite,” she said. “Didn’t you say that… that you…”  
“It was him,” Remus said. “The man we were pursuing—he did this.”  
“This doesn’t look like a human bite,” Tonks said. “It looks, it looks…”  
“Canine,” Remus said. “Like a dog or something. I told you it was crazy.”  
“Remus, what _happened_ to you that night?” Tonks asked, her heart beating in her throat.  
“Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.” Remus said. “He was dangerous, he was… he would have hurt you if he’d...”  
“Remus,” she said. She cupped his cheek. “Remus, you have to tell me what’s wrong so I can help. I’m in this with you and I’ve got your back, whatever it is, but you have to tell me.”  
“It’s what I said happened,” Remus said. “We were chasing him. You went to cut him off. I was alone with him. Out of nowhere he turned on me and attacked me.”  
“And bit you?” Tonks asked.  
“It wasn’t him Dora,” Remus said. “It was a full moon, you know. My roommates pointed it out when I came home injured, we had a laugh about it, and it’s a full moon tomorrow too.”  
“Remus, focus,” she said.  
“I _am_ telling you,” Remus insisted. “He bit me, but it wasn’t him, it was… it was a creature that bit me and I’ve been sick ever since.”  
Tonks fell back from her kneeling position and sat on the floor. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to process Remus’ words.  
“That’s mad,” she said.  
“I told you,” Remus said. He took a deep, painful breath.  
“Hey,” Tonks said. She reached out and cupped Remus’ cheek again. This time, she made him look at her.  
“Something’s wrong with me, Dora,” he said meekly. “I don’t want there to be something wrong with you too.”  
“Well, whatever crazy you have going on is my crazy too, okay?” she said. “That’s just fact. We’re partners, in everything and in this too—whatever it is. That’s how we get through things and that’s how we’ll get through this.”  
Remus looked too tired to look convinced.  
“Dora, this feels… different. This feels different and big and dangerous.”  
“Then it’s lucky that there’s two of us,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next AU: Tailor/Medieval


	9. In Hopes of Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dora has always been very good at pretending to be the princess her parents have needed her to be—but just as Remus can make anything, her tailor has somehow remade her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

# In Hopes of Breathing

She looked away as he wrapped the measuring tape around her waist. _Obviously_ he was simply doing his job—and _obviously_ she shouldn’t have cared that he was this close to her, that she could feel his breath against her or that the slightest touch of his fingertips brushed her hip in the process…   
Yes, obviously.  
But it was just best if she looked away so that nobody saw what he was doing to her.   
“Is everything alright, Milady?” he asked. She could have sworn under her breath. Of course he would ask, that tailor saw and sensed and felt absolutely everything. That attention to detail was what made him such a good tailor, in her mother’s books—if even one stitch in a row was uneven, if a single bead was loose along a neckline, if a nick in a ribbon gave it the slightest chance of eventually fraying… Remus saw it all.  
“Of course,” Dora replied. She cleared her throat and straightened her posture, happy that her mother wasn’t there to see her slouch.   
Remus nodded and knelt down so that he could measure the length of her skirt. It wasn’t as if Dora was growing, but she didn’t want to suggest that his measurements could be reused because… well, because she liked these moments of peace where it was just the two of them, when he came to the palace with bundles of fabric and paper patterns. Any kind of peace was hard to come by, of course, but if she couldn’t be completely alone then Remus was a fine choice to share her peace with.  
When he was done taking his measurements, he rolled up the tape and tucked it into his breast pocket. He offered her a hand so that she could step off the stool and waved her towards a chair. She kept her back straight, sat with her knees glued together, and made sure to spread the skirts of her dress so that they didn’t bundle or crease as she sat.  
“I was instructed to give you as many options as possible for this gown,” Remus said, coming towards her with a pile of patterns and sketches. “King Lucius’s words were, I believe, to spare no expense.”   
“My father feels generous,” Dora said.   
Remus smiled. He must have heard the sarcasm dripping in.  
“Perhaps we can finally make you a gown that you will not begrudge me for making,” Remus said.  
“I begrudge you nothing, sir,” Dora said immediately.  
Remus chuckled under his breath.  
“You know, you are not my only client—just my favourite. All the others are happy to see me, happy to input on colours and fabric, pleased to ask me to add more shine or texture… you look a little bit resentful, every time I put you in a gown.”   
Dora didn’t have a good answer—not one that a royal lady could and should say out loud.   
“So why am I your favourite?” Dora asked.  
“I like a challenge,” Remus said.  
Dora smiled a half-smile she hadn’t meant for him to see.  
“It is hardly your fault I lack the proper fondness for being dressed up,” Dora said.   
“Well then, I will find another way to make you smile.”

“There is still much work to be done...” Remus said. He was fluttering around in bursts as he adjusted how the fabric hung on her body, gathered at the sleeves, layered as it tumbled to the ground…   
She looked at her reflection in the mirror, at the pine green and snow white and sea gray fabrics of the dress he had made, at the first hints of bronze embroidering starting to appear, at his anxious face as he waited for her reaction.   
“This is beautiful,” Dora said. It truly, truly was.  
“I know,” he said. “I’ve made beautiful things before. What I want for this gown is for it to be strong, like you, and dignified and powerful—something that Boedicia or a warrior queen would wear…”   
“Is that what I am to you?” she asked.   
Remus blushed.   
“You are my client and my lady, and I am your humble servant,” he said.  
She liked it the other way around best, but she tried not to let it show.  
“I love it,” she said.

She pulled the bow’s string back. Her fingers lined up with her chin, the string could have touched her lips and nose. She used her back muscles, not her biceps. She relaxed her grip. Her stance was immaculate. She had internalized and naturalized everything that Alastor had taught her, when the captain of the guard had first noticed just how rambunctious she was.  
She released the arrow, which found its target easily. She knew the make-shift range Alastor had installed behind the gardens for her like the back of her hand.   
“Shit!” somebody yelled. A man with shaggy hair fell out of the forest, dropping a basket of mushrooms.   
“Damn it Padfoot, get back in here,” a black-haired man said, appearing to grab the first. He spotted Dora. “Oh, fuck...”   
“Crap!” someone else in the woods called.  
“Watch your language, all of you, and get out of the way.”   
All of a sudden it was Remus stepping out of the woods, grabbing his friends as if to pull them back. Then he made eye contact with Dora and it was hard to tell which one of them was more surprised.   
“Oh,” he said. “Oh, I’m sorry, I…”   
He did a quick bow and then kicked his friends so that they did the same.  
“Remus,” she said. She made her way towards the makeshift target. Suddenly, she was hyperconscious that she was wearing a stolen servant girl’s skirt, boots she’d stolen from her father and stuffed with rags, and a peasant blouse.   
She ripped the arrows she’d fired out of her target. She only had three to use and reuse.   
Her mouth felt dry. Outside of the palace, the world seemed so… _possible._   
Still, he shouldn’t see her like this.  
“You’re not supposed to be harvesting mushrooms so close to the palace. I am not supposed to be shooting arrows either,” Dora said. “I know what kind of trouble you would get into if you were seen doing this, but I can’t even begin to imagine what kind of hell I would be in if they knew I had gotten my hands on a bow. It’s probably best that we keep this quiet.”  
“I can keep your secret,” Remus promised.   
“Then I will keep yours.”

“I am excited to see your progress,” Dora said as she watched Remus hang the dress, wrapped in a protective bag, on the screen she always changed behind. It was one of the platitudes she always had handy.   
“Before we get there, I have something else for you,” he said. “You might actually be excited about it…”   
He reached into his bag and brought out a package wrapped in the same cheap canvas as a bag of flour. He handed it to her and she immediately liked the weight of it. She arched an eyebrow but he just smiled, so she unwrapped the package to reveal a hunter’s coat—a proper coat with fitted sleeves that wouldn’t snag on arrows, leather pads along the sleeves to protect from a bowstring’s snap… There was even a pair of fingerless archery gloves.   
“You made this?” Dora asked.  
“I can make more than gowns,” Remus said. “Those are just the things that bring me to the palace.”  
She ran her fingers along the jacket. There were insects engraved on the buttons’ surfaces. Blackberries and their leaves were embroidered at the jacket’s collar.   
“This is… why did you make this?”   
“Because I saw what you were practising in and you—well, you looked beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t proper archery gear,” Remus said. “I wondered how good you would be if you weren’t worrying about snagging your sleeves.”   
Dora couldn’t quite manage to reply, but she closed her mouth so she wouldn’t look like a trout.   
“How much do I owe you for this?” Dora said.   
“Nothing at all,” Remus said. “It is a gift. I just wanted to see you wearing it.”   
And so she slipped it on, and smiled when she saw that the buttons on the archery gloves also had bees engraved on them.   
She kept them on when he had her try on her gown.

He was kneeling in front of her and stitching a flower on her overskirt, at a spot where he’d noticed one was missing. There was love and patience in every prick of his needle.  
“How is the dress fitting, other than these missing details?” he asked. She looked down at him and bit her lip.  
“Not as wonderfully as my coat, but beautifully,” Dora said.   
“We’re not looking for beautiful,” Remus said. “We want it to fit properly so that it’s comfortable. You don’t need much help, but we want you to be beautiful.”  
Dora chewed her lip. He stepped back, his eyes going over her—no, not her, his dress. Well, her dress. Her dress that she was in.   
Dora sighed and straightened up, looking ahead— not at Remus and at those warm and bright brown eyes, at the nervous way he chewed his lip, examined the world around him, moved carefully…   
“I think this is still a little loose,” he said. “May I?”  
“Of course,” she said, though she hadn’t listened. He reached out and started fiddling with how the fabric that made up her collar rested against her skin. There were pins in the corner of his mouth and he plucked them from his lips to push them into the folds he created in the fabric.  
“Remus?” she said.  
“Yes, my lady?” he said, looking up. His words were muffled by the way his lips pinched around the pins.   
She reached out and plucked the pins from his lips. With her other hand, she tilted his face up and kissed him.

“You,” he said, shutting the door behind him, “are getting bold.”  
“I’ve always been bold,” Dora said.   
“ _Too_ bold, then,” Remus said, though he crossed the room, took her hands, and leaned in to kiss her. Dora laced her arms around his neck and pulled her closer.  
“You don’t like me bold?” Dora asked.  
“I like you best, bold,” Remus said, pressing his nose against hers. “But when your mother the Queen asks to see your gown and King Lucius wants to see the work he is paying for, and you turn them both away at the door…”   
“It’s so that I can do things like this,” she reminded him, kissing him again.

“Owe!”   
He laughed as she pricked her finger again.   
“You’re much clumsier than you look,” Remus said. He was, once again, trying to teach her how to sew on the hem of another client’s pants.   
“It took far more time than you’d ever imagine to drill me into being a princess or a decent archer,” Dora said.   
“Well, we have time,” Remus said, kissing her cheek. “Alright, let’s thread your needle and try again…”

She didn’t mean to do this. She didn’t mean to turn up at his door in the dead of night—to take her first opportunity to slip past the guards and run to the village, giving ample opportunity to the rain and mud to bedraggle her…   
“Dora,” he said when he saw her, eyes wide with concern. He reached to grab her hand, pulling her inside. “Dora, you shouldn’t be out, it’s…”   
“I’m pregnant,” she said before she could stop herself.  
That was when she noticed the three familiar men gathered around his kitchen table, drinking ale and eating some sort of stew.   
One of them actually dropped his spoon back into his bowl at her words.   
She turned back to look at Remus, who looked just as stunned—though he hadn’t dropped her hand. She was eternally thankful for this, if nothing else.

“I loosened the garment’s waistline,” Remus whispered in her ear as he pretended to adjust the laces at her bag.   
Dora took a deep breath.   
“Thank you,” she whispered.   
“Is there anything else that you need from me?” Remus asked. “Anything at all? Either today or for the next fitting or…”   
She liked the feeling of his hands against her, even if it was only in the most modest and professional brushes. She liked hearing him speak out loud about the mess she was in, as if she wasn’t alone. She liked…   
Before she could answer, her mother burst in, wearing a dark blue gown that made her silvery blonde hair look like it shone even more.  
“Marvelous,” she said, pressing a hand against her heart. “Oh, Nymphadora, you look absolutely beautiful… and to think it isn’t even finished! Remus, I do believe that you have outdone yourself…”   
Remus stepped away, tucking the spare pins into his pocket. He bowed.   
“You honour me, Queen Narcissa…”

The beauty of the dress was all mother could discuss as they took their walk around the garden that afternoon. Mother hung off Father’s arm, filling him in on the skillfulness of the embroidery, the powerful dye that had yielded such strong colours, the quality of the fabric used…   
“Dora, are you as happy with your gown as your mother is?” Father asked, putting a hand on the small of her back.  
“Yes, My Lord,” Dora said.   
“I do believe we will have to keep the tailor on commission for the wedding dress,” Mother said.   
Dora froze and her parents took two steps ahead of her before registering this.  
“I beg your pardon, Mother?” Dora asked. “I—I believe I misunderstood…”   
“Narcissa,” her father said, clucking his tongue. Still, he seemed in good spirits. Nearly _jolly,_ which wasn’t a word she used to describe her father often.  
“I spoiled the surprise!” Mother said, putting a hand against her mouth.   
“What surprise?” Dora asked. A wave of nausea came over her, but she knew that it was from pure horror, not from the baby. “Mother…”   
“One of our allies has asked for your hand,” Mother said, taking Dora’s hand. “A generous offer from a mighty kingdom—with a kind, handsome, lovely young prince…”   
Dora still felt like her knees were weak.  
“This dress…” she said.  
“We meant to surprise you,” her father said. He patted her mother’s hand.   
Dora’s knees weakened.   
Her father took her hand, squeezed it, and smiled. Her mother reached up, wrapping her arms around her shoulder. Dora couldn’t move or breathe in their grip. They were smothering her, they were all over her, they were…  
She stepped away, more roughly than she should have but more gently than she’d wanted.  
“You didn’t tell me?” Dora asked. “You didn’t… you didn’t think I should know?”   
She threw up in the rose bushes before they could elaborate.

Remus had little to no adjustments to make on her final fitting. His work was that perfect. The dress had never looked more beautiful and Dora had never felt sicker.   
“I have to show you something,” he said quietly. “While we’re still alone…”   
He took her hand and flipped the inside of the long, draping sleeve to show the words embroidered in golden thread along the edge of the sleeve.   
“What does this mean?” Dora asked. Her royal education as a pureblood had taught her seven languages and an additional two that she could only speak, but she couldn’t recognize these letters.   
“It’s the language of where I’m from,” Remus said. He ran his fingers over the fabric as he read them. “‘Take every stitch as a love letter because I will run out of time to adequately say ‘I love you.’’”   
Dora took a deep, shaky breath. She reached out to cup his face. She kissed him once, twice, thrice before pressing her forehead against his. He dropped the sleeve and ran both of his hands in her hair. It may ruin how beautifully natural and laissez-faire her tumbling curls had been designed to look. She didn’t care.   
“I’m not done fighting,” she said. “I’ll find a way.”   
“Don’t break yourself trying,” Remus said. “It… it may not be there and I want you to stay well and safe. Nothing is worth endangering that...”   
“You are,” Dora said.  
Before he could reply, a turn of the doorknob interrupted the peace and they stepped away from each other. They were very well practised at that.

She escaped from the ballroom as soon as possible. She knew she shouldn’t have, she should have been better—more poised, put-together… but she felt sick. She stood on the balcony, leaving the jolly music and the chatter of the party and her fiancé behind. The quiet, the cool air, the slowly drifting snowflakes… it all felt better than what she’d left.   
She wasn’t alone long. The captain of the guard, Alastor, joined her.   
“I don’t want to hear it,” Dora said before resting her forehead against the porch railing again.   
“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he said. He limped out onto the porch and sat on the bench. She watched him pick up his wooden leg and haul it onto the bench, massaging the part where limb met prosthetic.   
“I was going to say that there ain’t no shame in being in the wrong place at the wrong time—and that includes for how you love someone,” he said, reaching into his pocket for a piece of wood and a carving knife.   
Her heart froze. How did he..?   
“You know that everyone calls you Mad-Eye, don’t you?” Dora said, in a desperate attempt to change the subject and get him away. It was quite possibly the rudest thing she had ever said to anyone, much less her old friend.  
“Aye,” Alastor said. “It’s my eye that’s mad, not my mind, so listen. Sometimes, you’re in the wrong life to love the right person. There ain’t no shame in that.”  
“What if it’s not about shame,” Dora said. “What if… what if it’s about trying to breathe in your own life? You’ve never worn a corset, Mad-Eye, but there’s nothing worse than living life like you have one fused into your flesh—knowing you’ll never be able to take it off and breathe because that would mean slipping out of your own skin.”  
“Your mother used to say that to me all the time,” Mad-Eye said. He was casually whittling away at the piece of wood.   
“What on Earth are you talking about?” she asked, turning back towards him. “My parents—my parents love each other. They grew up playing together in the palace gardens and their betrothal was a cause for celebration across the kingdom...”  
“That’s the king and queen’s story, yes,” Mad-Eye said. He paused his whittling and gave her a look that was remarkably piercing given his one eye.   
“Speak plainly,” she told him. It sounded like an order and she winced. “Sorry, I mean… What are you saying?”   
“Your parents’ story,” Mad-Eye said. “As I remember them. Did it never seem suspicious to you that there was an incredible change in palace staff just before you were born, Milady?”   
“The sickness ran through the palace that year,” Dora said. “I was lucky to be born alive…”   
Mad-Eye clucked his tongue.  
“A good lie, but they couldn’t get rid of all the guards—too valuable, too difficult to train and replace… so there’s me, who remembers.”   
“What do you know?”.  
“You make me think of your mother,” Mad-Eye said. “She was quite a bit better at keeping herself bottled up and quiet than you—a storm in a bottle where you’re just a storm on the horizon, waiting to happen, but a storm nonetheless. They pushed and pushed her ‘til she snapped, and with a clap of lightning she disappeared—except she had a stableboy, not a tailor.”   
Dora straightened up and turned to Mad-Eye.   
“How dare you,” she said. “My mother, the queen of this land, she is... nothing but perfect—the perfect queen, the perfect wife, the perfect…”   
“She is a lie, my lady,” Mad-Eye said. “Did you never calculate that you were only born five months after the king and queen married?”  
“They’re my parents,” Dora snapped. “Call them my parents!”   
“It means that you were either born early, unlikely given your good health, conceived out of wedlock, unlikely given how prim and proper the royals are, or that you weren’t born of the king and queen at all.”   
Dora was about to fight back, but all of a sudden she couldn’t.  
She rested a hand on her stomach, thinking of the lies she’d imagined for this little one already…   
She drifted closer to Mad-Eye and sat by him.  
“Tell me everything,” she asked.

“You didn’t think I should know?” Dora said, leaning in her parents’ doorframe, still wearing the beautiful green dress.   
Her mother turned away from the vanity.  
“Nymphadora, lovely,” Narcissa said, standing. She was only wearing half her jewellery and a great deal of the pins holding up her hairdo had been pulled out.   
“Nymphadora,” Lucius added, shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the foot of their bed before circling over to come back to her.   
“Sweetheart, you were ill this morning, you shouldn’t be wearing a corset longer than necessary…” Narcissa said. When she reached her, Dora swatted Narcissa’s hand away.  
“Tell me about my mother,” Dora said.  
“What?” Narcissa said, paling. She looked more shocked than hurt.   
“Nymphadora!” Lucius said. “Don’t speak to your mother that way…”   
“Andromeda,” Dora said. “Tell me about Andromeda _now._ ”   
The slap across her cheek surprised her, but Dora didn’t recoil and she didn’t step back. _Strong. Like a warrior queen._   
“Where did you hear that name in my castle?” Narcissa hissed.  
“It doesn’t matter,” Dora said. “You would not have that look in your eyes if it didn’t matter… it’s true, isn’t it? You aren’t my parents at all…”   
“Your mother was a whore,” Narcissa snapped. “A whore raised just me but too stupid to know her place, her duty, the rules she had to follow, and the standards she had to meet…”   
“Where is she?” Dora said, trembling. “What happened to her, what did you do to her?”   
“She left,” Lucius said. “She left once we got our hands on that boy of hers, which cleared the way for your—for Narcissa to step in and save this family’s purity, its status, its wealth…”   
“Oh my God,” Dora breathed. “She…”   
“She had you in the basement of this palace and left you to save that boy,” Narcissa said. “We saved you.”   
“No,” Dora said, shaking her head. “You didn’t… she may have left, but did she have a choice? Could she breathe? Did you let her breathe?”   
“What are you saying?” Lucius asked. “Nymphadora, settle down…”   
“Stand back,” she said. She drew a hunting knife from her gown’s hidden pocket. When Remus had told her that he’d make a dress fit for a warrior, the man had taken his words literally.  
“Nymphadora!” Narcissa said. “Nymphadora…”   
“Stand back,” Dora said. “Stand back because I can’t breathe and I’m… I’m going to breathe.”

When she went to him, she had a bag and an embroidered coat around her shoulders, a bow, three arrows, and stolen boots stuffed with rags on her feet. The green dress, as beautiful as it was, had been left. She’d made sure to cut off the sleeve though, so she could bring Remus’ words with her. If she failed tonight, then at least his words would be with her.   
He pulled her into the little cottage, saying something about the weather and the snowflakes in her hair.   
Dora just melted against him. There were sparkles in his hair, as if he’d been working on a garment, and the measuring tape was wrapped around his neck. She breathed in the smell of him, mostly pine from the woods, and she resolved to always be close enough to breathe him in.   
“We need to go,” she said.   
“What?” Remus asked. “Dora, it’s…”   
“You need to pack a bag and bring your sewing kit and we have to find your friends,” she said. “I have two palace horses. Alastor gave me an address and he’s holding back the guards for as long as he can… they don’t know about the baby, but if they catch me they will.”   
“What?” Remus asked. “Wait, I can ask questions as we ride…”

“Are you ready for this?” Remus asked. They had dismounted from their horses and he held their reins. She gently ran her hand along the horse’s flank while staring at the little cottage and its ivy-covered walls.   
“You don’t have to do this,” Remus said quietly. “James wrote that they’re still looking for you back home, but we can ride to another county. I can set up another shop, build up business, we can make a life for ourselves…”   
“No,” Dora said. “I dragged you away promising a safe place, I owe you… I owe you to try.”   
She didn’t add that the baby growing and straining against her dress was making riding more difficult and uncomfortable and painful.   
“You don’t owe me anything,” Remus said, reaching out and brushing his hand across her cheek. “I do,” Dora said. “And I… I want to meet her, since she… well, she gave me the strength to run away and breathe. I owe her a thank you.”   
“Okay,” Remus said. He leaned in and kissed her softly, cupping her cheek and then dropping his hand down to brush her baby bump as he’d gotten into the habit of doing. “I will wait.”   
Dora nodded and she swung her quiver over her shoulder. She picked up the hem of her skirt as she walked, out of habit from when she was made to wear gowns around the palace instead of the functional work skirts Remus made her. She knocked on the cottage’s door and fidgeted with her skirts and with her braid as she waited for an answer.  
The woman who answered had light brown curls piled on top of her head. Her eyelids were heavy, as if she was tired, but her eyes were kind. For a second, Dora was shocked because… well, she wasn’t quite staring into a reflection, but the patrician beauty and aristocratic features and posture… Dora had it too.  
“Wotcher,” Dora said. She would never have been allowed to use this expression before, but she’d heard it in a tavern and quite liked it now. “My name is… I don’t know if you gave it to me but my name is Dora—Nymphadora.”   
Andromeda looked back at her, stunned. A shaking hand reached out and touched Dora’s cheek.  
“That name is the only thing I was able to give before they took you from me,” she said, her words shaking. “I… Ted… Ted, the door—come to the door!”   
And just like that, Andromeda broke into tears and wrapped her arms around Dora, clinging to her as she sobbed.   
Dora buried her face in Andromeda’s hair as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next AU: Soul Mark


	10. Through The Blur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has spent his entire life worrying about how he would find his soulmate without a mark that he never opened his eyes and looked for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

# Through The Blur

Remus was happy for James. Really, he was.   
Just like he was happy for Peter when Mary McDonald finally took matters into her own hands, asked him out to dinner, and brought him into a relationship he never would have been brave enough to start on his own. Just like he was happy for Sirius when he met Kingsley (although, to be fair, Sirius could have thought of a more elegant way to meet his soulmate than get into a drunken fight with the bouncer at one of his regular gay bars).   
All around Remus, his friends were using their soulmarks like road maps to find the people they would spend the rest of their lives with and it was working well. Marlene and Dorcas’ wedding invitations had the same sunflowers blooming across the pages that both women had between their shoulder blades. Harry had just turned five months old and absolutely loved playing peekaboo now that he had some object permanence going for him. His favourite soft toy was a stuffed lion that evoked the proud and roaring beasts on his parents’ backs. Sirius had finally bit the bullet and moved in with Kingsley, no matter how afraid of change he’d been, and was absolutely thriving.   
He was happy for them, but it was at times like these where he was babysitting Harry on Valentine’s Day—two days after the full moon when he was still sore and stiff from the change—that Remus couldn’t help but resent living in a world with soulmarks in it. He didn’t like himself for thinking that way, especially since Harry was a pretty cool baby by anybody’s standards, but thought he did.  
“We’ll be okay,” Remus smiled at Lily, Harry propped up in his arms. He waved the baby’s little hand around. “Say goodbye, Harry. And tell your parents to get out of here before they miss their reservation…”   
“Be good for Uncle Moony, sweetheart,” Lily said, leaning down to kiss the baby’s nose. She stood on her toes to kiss Remus’ cheek next. “Thank you, Remus.”   
“Seriously, thank you,” James said.   
“Anytime,” Remus said—which he meant. He loved his little nephew, even if he was about to start teething and thus even more slobbery than usual.   
“Cheers,” James said, kissing Harry’s forehead before resting a hand on Lily’s lower back and gently steering her out the door.   
Remus had babysat enough that Harry didn’t seem too traumatized about this turn of events. He chewed on his fist and looked around the room with those big emerald green eyes of his that were so uncannily like Lily’s no matter how young he was.   
“Alright,” Remus said, gently taking the baby’s fist out of his mouth. “If you’re going to be teething, let’s get you a pacifier or something better to chew on than your own limbs… come on, sweet pea.”

Since Sirius had moved out, Remus essentially had the flat to himself. His landlady had promised not to make him pay full rent until one of them found a new tenant for Sirius’ old room, but the building they lived in inspired little to no confidence or potential new roommates. Remus liked to call the building the Burrow, because of how cozy and mismatched it was due to all the new additions and reparations and fixes. Really, he wouldn’t have it any other way though.   
Remus enjoyed living alone, really. He missed Sirius, since they’d basically lived together since both being sorted into Gryffindor, but he liked the quietness of the flat. Not to mention the fact that with Sirius gone, nobody cranked the thermostat to unspeakable temperatures or left fingerprints on the window by the chair where Remus liked to read.   
Still, Molly had warned him that she would be showing the flat today, so Remus had made sure to tidy up. There wasn’t much to do since he was rather neat—Sirius had been the tornado keeping the flat in a perpetual state of disaster.   
Naturally, Molly brought Remus a loaf of banana bread when she stopped by, and she had one of her sons, Charlie today, trailing her. The woman she’d brought with her had magenta hair put up in a high bun so Remus could see how the sides of her head had been shaved. Piercings lined her ears and a septum piercing underscored her nose.   
“Remus, dear,” Molly said, giving him a quick and motherly hug. “Turn up the heat, love, or you’ll freeze! Is that leaky tap giving you any trouble? Did we finally manage to fix it?”   
“Yes, Mrs. Weasley,” Remus said.  
“Molly,” she corrected him with a gentle slap to the arm. “Don’t go giving Tonks here any ideas about calling me ‘Mrs. Weasley’ or anything. Tonks, love, this is Remus—he’s the current tenant.”   
“Wotcher,” she said, offering a smile that showed him yet another piercing on the tip of her tongue. She held out her hand and Remus shook it.   
“A pleasure,” Remus said.   
“Do you have any new books?” Charlie piped up.  
“I do,” Remus said. Really, they were just manuscripts—usually of books about magical creatures—that various publishers sent to Remus for copyediting. It was nice work that Remus could do quietly and remotely throughout the month, which made it perfect for someone like him. Charlie absolutely loved them.  
“Why don’t you sit tight while I show Tonks around?” Molly asked, patting Charlie’s head.  
Remus fixed Charlie a quick cup of hot chocolate before setting him up with a book about Grindylows in the living room. The little boy had all sorts of questions about the mechanics of how Grindylows managed to breathe underwater, which kept them pretty busy chatting. Charlie asked if he could colour in the black-and-white sketches of the manuscript and Remus didn’t see why not, so he dug up some coloured ink and an assortment of quills for her. From the other room, he heard Molly and Tonks going over rent and organizing a date upon which she could move in.

Tonks was pretty easy to live with. She was great, actually. They settled in a really great morning routine (Remus woke up, showered, and had the coffee waiting and the bathroom all cleared up by the time she came home from her run). On Sundays, they cooked food for the week together (she was eager to learn how but tended to burn toast). They both listened to the same radio programs on Wednesdays and rooted for the same Quidditch teams. They both liked the apartment on the cooler side and would rather freeze to death than pay for heat. They laughed about their flat’s incongruities and quirks. They MacGyvered ways to fix the tap to avoid stressing out Molly.   
And on this particular Friday night, when Tonks was too exhausted after a 12 hour shift to go out with friends as planned but desperately needed a drink, they were drunk and sitting on the rickety porch together. It was drizzling, but the way that the raindrops blurred the city lights and echoed off the pavement below them cocooned Remus. More than anything, the rain felt welcoming and soothing—more than a fair price to pay for damp socks. Maybe that was the alcohol talking.   
Her hair was a shade of mustard yellow that complemented the warm brown of her eyes and the dark beauty spot at the corner of her lips. Her hair was packed up on the top of her head and she’d been walking around the flat in a sports bra and sweats since lugging herself home. That, and she had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders to wear like a cape.  
She must have caught his eyes on her ribs where a circle containing waves decorated her skin.  
“It’s my soulmark,” Tonks explained. “Not a tattoo. I’m a little afraid of getting a tattoo, honestly, in case I can’t morph myself out of it.”   
“It’s beautiful,” Remus said. “Fluid and steady but always changing, just like you.”   
“Such deep thoughts,” she said, though she smiled and changed her hair to a new shade of pine green as if to prove his point. She took the bottle of wine from his hands and took a swig. “What’s your soulmark? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”  
Remus might have lied to her, ordinarily, but he _had_ just taken another swig of wine. Besides, Alice and Frank had just announced that they were expecting a second baby—so Remus was feeling particularly desperately romantic.   
“I don’t have one,” he said.  
“Impossible,” Tonks said. “Everyone has one.”   
“I... well, I do, but it’s gone,” Remus said. “It was… It was destroyed when I was bitten. My shoulder—it’s all scar tissue, really. I was so young that it never healed properly, still gives me trouble sometimes. You can tell that something was there but it’s impossible to tell what it was through the blur.”   
A beat passed.  
“I’m sorry,” Tonks said. She took another swig of wine before passing the bottle back to Remus.

Charlie was colouring in manuscript pages decorated with diagrams of phoenix feathers today.   
“This looks like my mama and dad’s soul marks,” he said conversationally.  
“The phoenix or the feathers?” Tonks asked.  
“Both,” Charlie said. “They’re lucky, they have two. I have one but Dad says that’s enough if I do it right. Look.”   
He rolled up his jumper sleeve and showed them the mark near his elbow. It looked like a fang to Remus. An unusual mark, but its distinctiveness would serve Charlie well when he was old enough to care about it, if nothing else.   
“Nice,” Tonks said. “That’s a cool one.”   
“Alright,” Molly said, reappearing in the living room. She had a toolbox propped up on her hip and the other rested over her baby bump. “Oh, Charlie, were you supposed to colour on that?”   
“We gave him that, it’s alright Mrs.—”  
“Molly,” Tonks whispered hastily.  
“Molly,” Remus corrected himself.  
“Well I hope you said thank you, love,” Molly said, shooting her son a fond smile. “Are you ready to get going, now? I think we’ve left daddy alone with your other brothers for long enough...”   
“Yes Mama,” Charlie said.   
“Thank you for having us, sorry about the sink again,” Molly said.   
“You should show us how to fix it one day for ourselves,” Tonks suggested.   
“Nonsense, love, that’s not your job,” Molly said. She patted down Charlie’s hair affectionately. “Alright, well, close the door behind me, loves—let me know if it breaks again!”   
Molly let herself out and left them alone sitting at the living room coffee table with the manuscript pages Charlie hadn’t scribbled over.   
Remus took a deep breath and Tonks looked him over for a second.  
“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” she said, pushing a strand of magenta hair behind her ear. The simple motion sent her chandelier earrings tinkling. “All this stuff about soul marks?”   
“It…” Remus took a deep breath. “I know it’s silly, but it does.”   
“You realize that not having the mark doesn’t mean you don’t have a soulmate, right?” Tonks said. “I mean, you have a mark, it’s just… hard to see or whatever. That doesn’t mean you won’t be able to—to meet your soulmate or interact with them or anything.”   
“I know,” Remus said. “It’s just… It’s just one more way that I’m different, you know?”   
“That’s the point of soulmarks though, isn’t it?” Tonks said. “To be different from everyone else, so that like can recognize like.”

Remus had been babysitting Harry again and Tonks had worked a monstrously long shift on Valentine’s Day, so they weren’t in a very romantic mood. They were, however, in the mood to eat terrible store-bought chocolate and plough through their flat’s liquor cabinet. It was too cold to sit on the porch, so they were sitting near the glass doors and watching the snow on the roads turn to slush under the freezing rain.   
“At least the weather’s piss poor,” Remus said. “You know? Being alone on Valentine’s Day would be worse if the snow was fluffy and romantic as if we were in some snowglobe…”   
“We’re not alone on Valentine’s Day,” Tonks said. She was colouring in spare pages loitering the coffee table with childsafe markers that they’d finally caved and invested in for when Charlie or another of the Weasley kids came over. She was a little too tipsy to draw within the lines, unfortunately. “We’re together.”   
“You know what I mean,” Remus said.   
“No, I don’t actually,” Tonks said. She took a substantial gulp straight from the bottle of tequila that made Remus wince. She hated tequila. This would not go well in the morning.   
“We’re _together,_ Remus,” Tonks said. “And we could be together!”   
“You just said that we are,” Remus said. Maybe he was drunker than he’d thought he was. 3:00 a.m. on a Friday night or Saturday morning was such a liminal space to begin with, Remus had a hard time telling.   
“But we could be… if you weren’t so worried about the blurriness and you just did something because you could instead of wondering if you should…” She clucked her tongue and coloured more aggressively. He was worried she’d break Charlie’s markers. She’d bleed through the parchment, at any rate.  
“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Remus said.   
“Because you don’t listen,” Tonks mumbled. “You’re so good with kids and you’re so observant and detail-oriented that you can see all the spelling mistakes and inaccuracies in the world, but you’re also so… so thick. No, not thick, you’re smart. Too smart, you overthink things when you should just do things.”   
“I do do things,” Remus said through a mouthful of chocolate. Chocolate, he was eating chocolate. That was something.   
“You should do something, if you’re so lonely,” Tonks said. She waved the marker at him. “Nobody cares that the bite blurs up your soulmark except for you. Don’t get me wrong, it sucks that you got bitten, especially when you were so young. But nobody cares about not knowing except for you. Other people would just… trust their guts. You’re kind of great, so other people would be lucky and happy to just be with you because they could without needing a sign from the world to confirm that they were in the right place.”   
“You don’t know that,” Remus mumbled.  
Tonks rolled her eyes, grabbed his arm, and pulled up the sleeve of his sweater past the elbow. She drew a circle on the inside of his forearm and filled it with rolling waves.  
“There,” she said. “There’s your sign if you need it so badly. Now kiss me, Lupin.”   
He looked at the mark on his arm. It was scribbled onto his skin with childsafe marker— green childsafe marker at that—so it could easily be wiped off. But when he looked up at her he… he didn’t want to.  
He wanted to kiss her and so he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Next Week: Goddess!AU


End file.
